


you suck anyway

by Lua



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Canon-Typical Violence, Doomed Timelines, F/M, Kankri-centric, POV Second Person, PWP, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/pseuds/Lua
Summary: Damara catches Kankri fighting and she happens to find that very hot.





	you suck anyway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



You pick your battles carefully; you don’t like to show off. People should listen to you regardless of your physical prowess. It comes naturally to you, but you chose to do no harm. You chose your words. You know that your skills wouldn’t really have mattered before the game.

You can handle your land just fine. You don’t need help, you don’t need coddling. It’s hard for some of your friends to understand that because they spent all their lives expecting to take care of someone just like you. To make sure someone like you could survive.

No one expects anything extraordinary from you, so you choose to keep quiet. But then Meenah fucked up and Damara is out to doom all of you and fighting is necessary. It’s frustrating; people keep asking if you are okay, if you can handle this or that enemy and well.

It’s bullshit.

You can fight your own battles. And you do.

Nevertheless, you hope to never finish a fight and turn around to find someone watching you. But that’s exactly how it happens.

There is Damara, sitting on a branch of what passes for a tree in this planet and just watching you kick ass like that’s as good as it gets. She keeps her eyes on you while you clean your arms and hands, but doesn’t say a word.

You keep glancing at her, uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as you’d have been if it was one of your friends higher on the caste system. You have a speech ready for the moment that happens, even if you hope it never will.

You are completely unprepared for this situation. You wonder if Damara is here to kill you, but she looks at you like you are suddenly so very interesting. You put on a new sweater and captchalogue the ruined one; she is still watching you.

You clear your throat.

 “I hope you weren’t triggered by this distasteful display,” you start. “I apologize for any possible traumatic feelings I may have caused you to experience. I also accept your apology – although you haven’t issued one yet – for watching me uninvited, which made me quite uncomfortable.” Damara interrupts you with something that you don’t understand. “It’s very rude to use a dialect that is unfamiliar to those who you are talking to. It could make them very upset.”

She doesn’t seem to care for a word of what you are saying. She flies closer and you are ready to uncatchalope your weapon. Damara has been causing quite a lot of damage lately and you don’t think anyone in your group would fault you for trying to defend yourself.  She smirks and you know she thinks you can’t beat her. Truth be told, when your aspects are considered, you don’t stand a chance. She says something again and that’s probably what she is telling you.

You take a deep breath, considering your options. Before you can start speaking again, Damara puts both hands on your chest and it makes you shut up in surprise.

“That’s unsolicited touching and I do not condone it.” You had more to say on the matter but she shuts you up again, this time by leaning closer and licking your lips. She clearly doesn’t understand what you are trying to convey because more unsolicited touching should not have happened.

Or maybe she’s just mocking you.

The thought of being made fun of pisses you off. You push her away and she tells you something that you are sure is uncalled for or triggering or possibly both. She’s aggravating.

Damara smiles at you and cocks her head. She says something else that sounds like a question and you sigh because you simply don’t understand east beforean and it’s beyond frustrating. She laughs at you and you narrow your eyes, glaring at her.

She reaches out and caresses you cheek. You slap her hand away and she raises her eyebrows at you before shrugging with a small, annoying smile dancing on her lips. You consider biting it away and you feel disgusted with yourself. She reaches for you again and grabs a handful of your hair; you snarl at her and get a hold of her wrist, digging your claws on her skin as you force her to let go of your hair.

You notice her foot moving to get you behind the knees and throw you off balance and you move behind her, pulling Damara’s arm back as you do so. She laughs as if you weren’t twisting her arm and tugs her arm to break free. You’re forced to dig your nails into her arm a little deeper. You can feel her blood on the tips of your fingers; it distracts you enough to not notice her free arm moving.

Her elbow connects with your nose and you are sure it’s broken. Your own blood drips down your face and you push her away harder this time. Your claws scratch down her arm and Damara stumbles forward. She turns back to you and you are triggered by how pitch this all feels. You bare your teeth at her, but Damara seems amused and you’re suddenly very sure she’s still mocking you with this caliginous teasing.

You lunge yourself at her; it’s her smirk that actually makes you feel so pitch for her. It forces you to feel that and you hate her and hate it and you want to punch her in the face. So you do it. She grabs your sweater and gets ready to throw you. You hold onto her arms and pull her down with you when she follows through.

You bite her shoulder, getting through the fabric and puncturing her skin. Damara pushes you down and straddles you. You hate it and right now you hate her so much. Rolling around on the floor like dirty animals; you hate that she makes you want to do that.

You grab her wrists and hold them together, using more strength than needed. You feel the bones shifting under your hold and she smirks at you again. Damara rocks her hips and leans in to kiss, you assume. You turn away and don't let her lips touch yours. She bites your cheek in retaliation and makes you bleed even more.

She tugs her wrists free and forces you to turn your face and look at her. Your face is a mess but so is hers, even if less so. For a moment you think about head-butting her but she kisses you before you can actually do anything.

After the initial shock, you kiss her back. It’s all teeth and bruised lips but it’s weirdly pleasing. She doesn’t kiss you like she’s afraid you’ll break. You’re hit with a wave of affection for Damara and the quadrant vacillation embarrasses you. You put your hands on her thighs to distract yourself and she licks the blood away from your lips as it keeps dripping from your nose. It’s disgusting but it grounds you.

Damara pulls her skirt up and you can see her bulge trying to get free from her underwear. It dawns on you that you are horny, too. She is still sitting on your thighs and rocking her hips on your thigh. If you didn’t wear black pants, the stain would be obvious. You don’t like her assumption that you would be down to fuck just because of a little flirting. You open your mouth to tell her so but it’s been awhile you got off and this timeline is probably doomed anyway.  It’s an annoying realization; you feel so pitch for her right now that you could probably fill a pail on your own. But you don’t have to. Damara’s very clear about it as she starts pulling your sweater up to get to your pants. You don’t need to speak the same dialect to understand each other at this point. You push her hands away and get rid of your pants on your own.

Damara grins at you and pulls her underwear to the side so her bulge can trash around freely. Your own bulge is trying to coil on itself for friction. You guide it closer to hers and they tangle around each other, making both of you moan. She leans back, supporting herself with a hand on your knee, which is both painful and uncomfortable but you don’t care. You gasp and close your eyes.

Your bulge squeezes hers and you push your hips up to help it get more friction. You watch Damara and the thought that her underwear will be ruined crosses your head but doesn’t stay for long. You don’t care for much else other than your bulges squeezing and coiling around each other. Your nook is so wet that you are a bit annoyed by it.

“Come on!” you demand and she laughs, but her laughter is almost a gasp on its own.

It’s Damara who untangles your tentabulges and guides her own into your nook, leaving yours trashing alone in frustration. You want to cuss at her, but the feeling is distracting and you end up moaning. It takes you a few moments before you reach out and grab her skirt, pulling her close enough so your own bulge can slip into her nook. Her underwear makes everything harder and you want to tear it off. You give it a light pull and then decide to go for it. Damara makes a surprised noise and says something you don’t understand again. You don’t care.

You aren’t sure how long it takes before you start dripping. You get your own bucket out because Damara seems like the type of person who would want to embarrass you by not getting a bucket out in time. You come with a breathless noise and a sense of relief you haven’t felt in a long time. You don’t know if Damara came with you or before, but she seems done with you as soon as the bucket is full.

She gets up and, without breaking eye contact, puts on new underwear she had on her sylladex. You get the impression she couldn’t care less about you and another wave of pitch feelings for her washes over you. Damara laughs as if she knows and you wonder if another you, in another timeline, made a proper solicitation to her.

You try to focus on the situation as it is. You feel like you should tell her how triggering her behavior was. You can’t believe you allowed all of this to happen.

“This was a very offensive approach to a quadrant that you couldn’t possibly know I if I had filled or not. I don’t have to tell you how rude it would have been to make a caliginous move on me if I was in a committed relationship,” you begin to say and, before you continue, Damara kicks the bucket, splashing you with your combined slurry.

She laughs. Damara waves at you and starts walking away. You want to strangle her; you must look pathetic, pantless and covered in genetic material. God, you feel so pitch for her.

You can’t help but hope you’ll run into each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this!! i hope you find it enjoyable :D
> 
> the title comes from the song afraid by the neighbourhood


End file.
